


night off (SSS#1)

by logictron



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Hands, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, There Is Nothing Redeeming Here, adam's arms are a THING, this is pwp, truly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 05:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14074056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logictron/pseuds/logictron
Summary: He can't get her out of his head. He tries, desperately. Everything short of losing himself in a bottle of whiskey (he'll never be his father; he'll die before he lets that happen). But the harder he tries to push her away, the more stuck he gets on the thought of her.





	night off (SSS#1)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chibisere23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibisere23/gifts), [UndercoverWaterMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndercoverWaterMoon/gifts).



> Oh boy. This is the result of basically two solid days of talking about Adam and his hands and his arms and his mouth. It is...exactly as dirty as you'd expect, probably.
> 
> (And yeah, you can blame the dedicatees for this. :-p)

He can't get her out of his head. He tries, desperately. Everything short of losing himself in a bottle of whiskey (he'll never be his father; he'll die before he lets that happen). But the harder he tries to push her away, the more stuck he gets on the thought of her.

 

At first, he blames almost losing her. He's worried about her. So watching her all the time makes sense. But it's apparent relatively quickly that Jaz has recovered faster than any of them expected (he doesn't like to think of why. He's seen her file. He's lived those horrors for himself. He knows why.). And it doesn't take long after that for Adam's mind to start drifting from worry to something else. Worry doesn't excuse memorizing the way her body moves, or the scent of her skin, or the sound of her laugh. Worry doesn't excuse imagining kissing her, pushing her up against the wall or down onto the bed, and figuring out how she tastes; what it would take to make her moan.

 

There's not much privacy afforded to any of them in their little hut in the desert. Adam's grown accustomed to that. He's learned to do things quietly, which generally means doing them quickly. A means to an end and not much else. But his mind lingers on her too much for that. He's tried everything he can think of to fix it. He's even gone so far as looking up porn on his phone, which is something he hasn't done in probably a decade. But none of it helps because none of it is her.

It's starting to impact work, only because he can't get a solid night of sleep. So in his frustration, Adam caves. He goes to bed early, leaving everyone else playing pool, and crawls into bed to let himself think about it. About her.

He thinks about kissing her neck and her breathing his name as he sucks at her skin until she's arching into him, pressing against him because there's no way she'd just let him run the show. She knows exactly how attractive she is, and he knows she'd have no problem reminding him of that.

Adam groans at the thought before hearing Amir's voice a little too close to the door for comfort. Gritting his teeth, he swallows, drawing a shaky breath as his hand slips under the elastic of his waistband. The muscles in his forearm flex as he wraps his hand around the length of his cock, pulling it free from his sweats, squeezing around the base to stave off some of the immediate need. The thought of her watching him, of her sneaking through his door right now, catching him, has him muffling another groan, though just barely. He wonders if she's thought of him, too.

With moisture beading at the head of his erection, Adam strokes upward, dragging his thumb over the tip, spreading wetness down the shaft. He thinks of her straddling his thighs, watching intently, hair spilling over her shoulders. She'd tell him how to touch, he thinks, and the idea makes him twitch. He'd ache for her to just touch him, so at least he'd know how her hands felt like this, so much smaller than his own, but no less skilled. 

A growl pulls from his throat, a little louder than he could get away with, if anyone is listening. He hears her voice, then, above the others.

"That is cheating," she declares. "And I don't play with cheaters. Goodnight." 

Adam stills, doesn't even breathe. It's ridiculous, really. She almost never comes into his room, and certainly never without knocking. But she could and that has him aching. She's so fucking close, he can practically taste it.

Her footsteps shuffle past his door and then her own door opens and closes. Adam lets out a breath and fights back the ridiculous wave of disappointment. He goes back to the fantasy, pushing reality aside.

Adam strokes himself again, twisting as he goes, already shaking with the restraint it takes not to just give in. But the longer he waits, the more he can think about her. She wouldn't let him off that easy, either. In his mind, she laughs softly at his desperation, demands he stop. She brushes her damn fingers over his knuckles and the back of his hand, following the contours of the muscles in his forearm as she leans over him.

"Do you want to move?" she whispers. "Do you need it?"

"Yes," he hisses, to his empty room. "Please."

Her hand slides back down over his, her nails dragging along the back of his fingers, and Adam shudders, his cock leaking steadily now.

"Good boy," she purrs, and Adam doesn't even recognize the choked, broken sound that escapes his throat. That's a part of him he rarely acknowledges, one it's even rarer for him to indulge in. But the fantasy version of her knows everything. "Come for me, Adam."

He does, instantly, her name on his lips (and God, the thought of her hearing him just spikes his pleasure that much higher). He spills over his fist, imagines spilling over hers, and pumps himself slowly to milk out the last of his pleasure, dripping over his stomach.

After a minute, once the pleasure subsides, he realizes the common area has gone silent. Everyone's gone to bed. He has no idea if they heard (or what they heard). He cleans up, changes into a fresh pair of sweats, and falls back into bed, deciding he'll worry about that tomorrow. For now, his need is sated. For now, he can ignore the dull ache as he wishes she were here for him to wrap in his arms.


End file.
